Golf-riding grandma

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I was involved in a car accident last week. It was nothing major – no ambulance or Police required. While I was shopping in Shell Bugolobi, a VW Golf with all the trimmings — bling rims, low profile tyres and tinted windows reversed into to my ride which necessitated a new headlamp and indicator.

I was involved in a car accident last week. It was nothing major – no ambulance or Police required. While I was shopping in Shell Bugolobi, a VW Golf with all the trimmings — bling rims, low profile tyres and tinted windows reversed into to my ride which necessitated a new headlamp and indicator.

A Golf with all the trimmings = A young chap who spent his first salary in the bond putting a down payment on it.

Obviously, I was vexed and did not wait for him to get out of the Golf. I took the battle to him, yanked the door open with a furore that surprised me and as my favoured word — tumbavu (fool) — was about to splatter all over the dashboard, there was an urgent need to take it back into my mouth.

At the wheel, there was no 25-year-old, but a Jajja and a female Jajja at that. Had I been a doctor, I would have classed her as a geriatric, but seeing I am not one, I have to make do with calling her Jajja because it is not polite to call old folk geriatrics.

Jajja, so I found out, normally drives a Jajja car, a Nadia, but 25-year-old-son had taken it for servicing and offered her his Golf to get round. She also told me that it has a mind of its own and when I pressed her on it, she said: “A little pressure to the accelerator and it shoots off.”

Okay Jajja, that’s a Golf for you, but what about my headlamp and indicator? I was not bound to slap the 150k out of her and when she suggested we exchange numbers, I accepted. She was a Jajja, what else could I have done?

It all ended on a good note for the following day, 25-year-old-son called and did the needful.

Talking of geriatrics, the ruler of one of the most secretive countries in the world who bears a striking resemblance to

Dracula, threw in the towel and resigned — something that has not happened in 600 years.

But what becomes of him? Does it mean he will have to refund the name — Benedict XVI — which he picked when he became Pope and revert back to the plebe name of Joseph Aloisuis Ratzinger?

Is he required to do a handover and account for the per diem he got whilst he was in office? More importantly though, is there a scandal brewing that we do not know about hence his decision to quit? All Catholics must be on bunkenke (peeing in their pants) at the thought.

Uganda is surely ‘gifted by nature’. I was in Jinja taking a drive past the Bujagali Falls dam, when I stumbled upon a hidden gem. I really should not be telling you about it because you will all go there and ruin the place.

It is in the middle of River Nile with a fast flowing rapid on either side. More importantly, the chaps at the National Forest Reserve have them under a microscope that they have to promote ecotourism.

William Pike and Cathy Watson, who are so passionate about trees will be happy to know that for every tree that was chopped down to build the lodge, another one was planted in its place.

Now that I have let the cat out of the bag, I am sure the charcoal dealers will be descending on the area.

By the way Jajja,, you really cannot use a subwoofer to listen to CBS radio. As William Kakaire will tell you, a subwoofer is meant for Snoop and Dr. Dre!